


Sage Advice

by despairedd



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, High School, Missing Scene, One Shot, Pre-Series, first fic, sophomore year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:12:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1341511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/despairedd/pseuds/despairedd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Uses info from VMM that could be considered spoilery. Proceed at own risk]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sage Advice

**Author's Note:**

> First time publishing any kind of vm fic. Beta free drabble ahead that could quite possibly be completely canonically impossible. yolo.
> 
> "You were supposed to be the nice one and you know what you said to me?"

She sat alone at her usual table, picking at the cafeteria slop on her tray. She didn’t miss much from her past life of faux-luxury, but it really sucked when she couldn’t pick the shrimp out of Duncan’s Lo Mein container anymore. 

This day had gone down as one of the worse ones, considering good days were those that contained only eight or so references to her choice of the football team over the basketball team. At least they’d stopped feigning curiosity over what kind of stain remover she used for those pesky grass stains on her back.

Logan had spent the majority of their lunch period making crude hand gestures at her and rubbing his hands all over Duncan’s chest, looking her directly in the eye with a sick, sadistic grin.

She wished the sidewalk would open up and swallow him sometimes. Other times, the passion with which he hated her had sparked this feeling, a fire of vengeance, retribution, and anger. It made her see red, which was a welcome change from the gray world she had been living in lately. 

She glared at him and felt her lip twitch up in a snarl and he just laughed at her, whispering something in Duncan’s ear. Duncan stood, poised to leave the table, shaking his head with a look of disgust aimed at his best friend, who was now laughing his ass off with John Enbom and Casey Gant. As her ex-boyfriend turned to leave, Logan locked eyes with her once again and reached over and smacked him on the ass. He didn't say anything, but then again, he didn't have to. His face had always given away his innermost thoughts and this time they said, “ _You wish it were you, don’t you?”_

Duncan flipped around and shoved him so hard, Logan almost fell off the bench. Righting himself as best friend stormed off, he reached into his cup and took out the straw, chewing the end absentnindedly.

Dick Casablancas, who was sitting next to Logan, grabbed his own straw as well. He took a napkin from the dispenser and began to tear it into small bits. Rolling them up, he stuck them in his mouth and aimed his straw at her cheek 

Miss.

He took another, aimed again for an unsuspecting Veronica’s short, choppy blonde hair and blew. 

Miss again.

Finally, Dick loaded one more paper bullet into his straw, and, locked onto her forehead, shot it out with as much force as he could.

Bullseye.

It bounced off her head  and fell to the ground. Dick grinned with victory and Logan, snickering, reached over and gave him a high five. By the time they looked back at her, she was already marching across the quad towards their table, geared up and ready for battle.

She felt the lava of Vesuvius coursing through her veins and she felt so primal, so alive, as she stalked to their coveted ‘09er table. She had already planned what to say, how to say it, and then how to ruin their lives respectively. It took every once of self control to not cackle like a madman at the thought. 

Suddenly, a freshman girl with big, bushy blonde hair and coke-bottle glasses stepped into her warpath.  _Sweetie, you had better move if you want to live…_  she tried to communicate telepathically, but this girl was not having any of it. 

"Veronica? Veronica Mars?" she asked timidly.

"What?" Veronica snapped, peeved that this girl interrupted her revenge.

"Um, you’re on Pep Squad right?"

Well, she had stopped going to practice and meetings a long time ago, but she had paid her dues in the fall, and that meant she was a member for the whole school year. So, yeah. Technically, she was still on Pep Squad.

"Was on. Why?" Any semblance of patience she currently possessed was wearing  _very_ thin.

She took a deep breath. “Well-IjusttriedoutandIdidn’tmakeitsoIwashopingyoucouldhelpmebecauseIreallywannabeonthesquad.” She finally exhaled. “What can I work on to make sure I get a spot next year?”

Logan and Dick's combined voices carried across the outside cafeteria, telling the freshman that the only tips she'd get from Veronica Mars are how to handle more than four guys in one go and how to get frequent flyer miles at the Neptune Free Clinic, for all her sexually transmitted needs. 

She felt her patience snap. After Lilly died, the Pep Squad pretty much taken Veronica’s pompoms and told her to shoo, alongside the rest of the '09ers. They had done nothing but shun her, so why should she help anyone who wanted to become one of them? She owed them nothing. No allegiance, no support, and certainly not tips on how to be a better bitch.

Her jaw clenched and she crossed her arms. Looking at the girl in the eyes, she shrugged her shoulders and placed a finger on her chin, as if deliberating some Pep Squad wisdom.

"Gee, I don’t know. Maybe you should dance better."

She turned on her heel, leaving the crushed freshman in her wake as she hurried towards the door to the hallway.

Dick and Logan would be safe for now, but only because she refused to let them see a tear. She hadn't quite mastered the fine art of concealing the angry ones, but from the confines of her "out-of-order" bathroom, come hell or high water, she would never let Logan Echolls and Dick Casablancas make her cry again. At least, not until she made them wish they'd never been born. Maybe a slashed tire or three would do the trick later. Egg whites on the brand-new, daddy paid paint jobs, perhaps?

 _Or better yet_ , she thought, as she pulled out her master key to the lockers in Neptune High, _exactly how funny they would feel when every clickable link, program, document, or PowerPoint on their hard drives was nothing but the music video for Rick Astley's iconic hit, "Never Gonna Give You Up."_

Considering it was time for final projects in almost every class, next week was going to be a blast.


End file.
